Linda Elze appeared on screen showing her award and expressing appreciation to all who have helped and supported her. She expressed gratitude especially to Worldprofit CEO, Dr. Jeffrey Lant for providing ongoing motivation and inspiration when she needed it. Linda was also touched that Worldprofit CEO wrote a sad article dedicated to her, titled: Of champions, with particular reference to Theodore Roosevelt’s fantastic speech "The man in the arena", April 23, 1910, the Sorbonne, Paris.
(Worldprofit Members can access this article in the Article Index surrounded by your Member area)
Public access to the article is at:   http://www.JeffreyLantArticles.com

George Kosch, Worldprofit Technical Director and Home Business Bootcamp Instructor, also came on screen live to congratulate Linda for her achievement. 
 
Worldprofit Members watching in on the live broadcast filled the screen with congratulations to Linda, many thanking her for help she has provided, others challenged that they will beat her next year!
 
Dr. Lant took a few moments to express his appreciation to Linda for not giving up when the going gets tough. He much-admired her tenacity, strength and determination to meet her goals, but also her willingness to help others.
He urged others to learn from Linda as we have all been touched by her involvement in Worldprofit.

It is fitting and proper that we recall the fantastic
events of our Republic, events that remind us
of where we have been and exhort us to where
we are going.

Such an event was President-Elect John Fitzgerald
Kennedy’s celebrated speech known as "A City
Upon a Hill."

Kennedy made this speech just days before he
assumed his "high and lonely" personnel in the capital.
And, as so regularly in one of his speeches, there were
many elements present, some celestial, others less
serious, even puckish, all quintessential Kennedy.

Who was there?

Initially of all, every politician in politician-filled
Massachusetts was present for this speech, which
was given in the Victorian ornateness of the House of
Representatives in a establishment session with the state Senate.

Each and every one of these politicos, each
one in his best bib and tucker, came to learn, came
to scrutinize, came to ape, came to see what made
this oh-so-favored son of Boston tick. So they may maybe
do it, too. This speech, this whole shebang, was an
opportunity to learn from the very best, and all were single-minded
to make the most of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Who wasn’t there?

Conspicuously absent was the man who, more than anyone
other than Kennedy himself, made it all possible. Joseph P.
Kennedy it seems did not attend. Already, the Kennedy’s knew,
no one more than Joe himself, that he was to be, had to be, the power
behind the throne if the new regime was to flourish. His reputation as
wire-puller, boot legger, with a whiff of Nazi sympathy made it
necessary for him to remain firmly behind the scenes. Joe was ok
with this. It was the devil’s deal he made for his son and the glory
of Kennedy.

Who wrote the speech?

It seems, even if absolute certainty may stay elusive, that
Kennedy’s speech writer Theodore Sorensen wrote this speech.
If so, it would hardly be surprising. Sorensen had a gift for
simple, graceful prose as he had proved in the writing of
"Profiles in Courage". Sorensen was coy throughout his
life (he died in 2010) about whether or not he wrote this
Pulitzer Prize winning book; (he was constantly, annoyingly
questioned). He always said no… but the cognoscenti doubted.

Sorensen was the ultimate loyalist;  he was accustomed to
giving his all… and he wrote prose the President-Elect
liked and may maybe deliver with ease, elegance, and persuasion.

Why John Winthrop?

Governnor John Winthrop was a man of parts, a thoughtful man,
a man of guts and grace, a man in communion with God
who needed all his wits not just for getting his people to
the new world of Massachusetts… but making sure they
knew what to do when they arrived. It was a matter of
urgency and the deepest possible significance.

Towards this end he wrote in 1630 a document which he
called "A Develop of Christian Charity." It was in fact a
series of admonitions about how citizens of this sterile,
unblemished new world should behave. And John
Winthrop minced no words.

One can picture the scene as Governor Winthrop
assembled his flock on the main deck of that small
ship of fate and read the portentous words that
defined who they were, what they were doing, and
why it mattered so. It was a scene of importance
and they all knew it; they gave their leader their
full attention as he went to the ringing conclusion
he gave them and to the ages to come:

"For we must deliberate that we shall be as a city upon
a hill. The eyes of all people are upon us. So that if
we shall deal  falsely with our God in this work we have
undertaken, and so cause Him to retreat His present
help from us, we shall be made a tale and a by-word
owing to the world."

Governor John Winthrop was single-minded this should
not happen… and John Fitzgerald Kennedy was single-minded,
too, as he plucked this phrase and launched it as a
missile into a future as murky,hard, and grave as
Winthrops’s.

And so the President-Elect walked purposefully
to the podium, his every go and action the subject
of scrutiny and comment.

He was, much of America thought, too young
(43), too inexperienced, with a religious affiliation
that troubled many and appalled some. He had much
to prove… but John F. Kennedy was an historian.
He understood History, and on this day he knew he
would make it. Thus he started, revealing his
vision for the politicians in attendance, the whole
of Massachusetts, and for every citizen in the nation
he was about to govern.

There were words of pride as when he cited
Pericles’ loud boast to the Athenians:
"We do not ape — for we are  a develop to
others."

There were his words of inspiration and
hope that the "enduring qualities of Massachusetts"
as embodied in "the common threads woven by the
Pilgrim and the Puritan, the fisherman and the farmer,
the Yankee and the immigrant" would truly merge
and renew the rich heritage of the Commonwealth,
now atrophied and in danger.

There was the well-known charge to all the
legislators and statesmen before him… and
all those who were watching from afar, reminding
them all that "For of those to  whom much is
given, much is required."

And then, finally, there were the 4 well-known questions:

"Initially were we truly men of courage…

Secondly, were we truly men of judgement….

Third, were we truly men of integrity….

Finally, were we truly men of dedication — with
an distinction mortgaged to no single individual or group….?"

Humbly,  he then questioned for God’s help in this
undertaking "but aware that on earth His will is worked
by men."  Yes, he questioned for the help of all "as I embark
on this new and solemn journey."

Then,  his words hanging in the air, the applause
of his audience rising, he descended from the podium
and went on,  setting out upon his voyage; a man
aware of the nation’s fantastic trust and his fantastic dependability.

While Giffords was doing her job, Jared Loughner was preparing
to do his. He was in the parking lot, in a taxi, loaded down with
a Glock 19 semiautomatic pistol. The magazine was full. He
had another full magazine, too, that had about 30 bullets and
two more that each held about 15 bullets. Just in case, Jared
was also carrying a knife. But Jared had a problem. On his
way to destiny he found he didn’t have enough change to pay his
taxi fare. He and the driver stepped inside the store, sorting
it out… Jared then walked back inside.

In just an instant, in a moment of unspeakable horror death
descended, at the hand of the man now known as alleged
gunman Jared Loughner, aged 22.

Murdered! 9 year ancient Christina Green, student assembly
expressive and A student.

Murdered! Judge John Roll, 63, his life dedicated to the law
and due process.

Murdered! Dorwin Stoddard, 76, who gave his life shielding
his wife.

Murdered! Gabriel Zimmerman, 30,  an expert on constituent
affairs in Gabby Gifford’s personnel.

Murdered! Phyllis Schneck, 79, affable church volunteer.

Murdered! Dorothy Morris, 76 excellent neighbor, enjoying a
well-earned retirement.

Dead, all dead, with 12 more wounded, bleeding,
writhing. But Jared, who delivered death, lived on,
condemned to life, protected by the Constitution and
the hBill of Rights he sneered at.

Why had this happened when so many knew so much
for so long about the troubled mind and insistent presence
of Jared Loughner?

The U.S. Army had clues. Jared had applied and been
rejected for reasons officials would not tell. What
did they know, when did they know it, what did they do?

Officials at Tucson’s Pima Community College,
where Jared was a disruptive, unsettling presence,
had clues.

Campus police  were called at least 5 times to deal
with Jared and his out-of-control classroom antics. 
September 29, 2010 they had enough when Jared
posted the latest of a string of vituperative, rambling,
sense challenged videos, this one claiming the
college was illegal, according to the U.S. Constitution,
which doubtless he had by no means read and may maybe not
know.

So frequently forced to deal with Jared, what
did these officials know, when did they know
it, what did they do, beyond having two uniformed
police officers hand-deliver his suspension to his
home? They knew enough for that.

Readers of Jared’s Facebook and YouTube rants had
clues. Incoherent, violent, accusatory, Jared’s
poorly written posts reeked of the pains he felt and
the greater pains he meant to inflict on someone, anyone.

There was one record titled "America: Your last
memory in a terrorist country!". There a figure in the
dark clothing Jared habitually wore burned the
American flag while wearing a smiley-face mask.
Desecration of the flag is de rigueur for the
unbalanced and country hating and Jared juiced
up this evil sacrament with the soundtrack of a 2001
song by the band "Drowning Pool."

"Let the bodies hit the stump!"

What did his readers know, when did they know it,
what did they do? Or did they even notice Jared, who
so desperately wanted to be noticed and understood.

Then Jared got serious.

He wrote the obligatory self-justifications. There were
3 of them, all found in a safe in Loughner’s home:
"I plotted ahead", "my killing," and, tellingly,
"Giffords." There was even a flyer from one of
Giffords’ 2007 "Congress on Your Corner" events.
He had, we now know, attended this event, perhaps
brainstorming the options that would deliver
universal notice, even unto the President of these
United States, the land he so reviled.

He bought his weapon of choice at Sportsman’s
Warehouse on November 30, 2010. Then he bought
his portable arsenal of bullets, lots of bullets.

No one at the store noticed anything particular
about this boy, already bursting with purpose and
arrogant determination. Boys with odd ticks and rumpled
clothes are a daily occurrence in the temple of weapons
and the priesthood of the Second Amendment. No one cared.
The sale, after all, went owing to. And that’s the valuable
thing, isn’t it? What did that obligatory pre-buy
background check show about Loughner, who by now had
left so very many clues? Or was it given the most cursory
of notice? No one has yet said, but one may suppose.

Which brings us to the spruced up Jared, dressed for
mayhem and eternity. He called the taxi and rode off,
his driver apparently seeing nothing of the bulky paraphernalia
of death toted by the alleged culprit and gunman. We all wonder
how that may maybe be.

Just as we wonder how so many may maybe have seen so much
and done so small, leaving Jared the initiative, always free to act
while others watched and waited…. until the bodies hit the stump.

Fortunately, there are heroes here, two people who tackled
Jared gun of death in hand, bringing him down. These (so far
unnamed) people of courage did not hold back. They saw, they
acted, saving many lives, even at the risk of their own.

As for the rest and all the soul baffling questions, the resolution is blowing
in the wind.

The advent of a rowdy Republican majority in the
U.S House of Representatives should have been the
most pleased day in the life of Expressive John Boehner
(R-Ohio). After all, he was elected Speaker, climbing
the greasy pole and getting a sumptuous personnel with
all the trimmings. So, what did he do? He cried,
copiously.

Outgoing House Speaker Nancy Pelosi (D-California)
by contrast remained dry-eyed as Boehner took the Speaker’s
gavel from her. Indeed,  as she handed over the gavel, she
appeared chipper as all get out. Tears were not on her agenda,
despite the fact she was giving up a high personnel she would likely
by no means grace again.

What’s going on here?

It’s all about who can weep, where, how much, how regularly.
In small, we are in the midst of an epic cultural change from the
stiff to the shaking upper lip. To provide guidance on this subject
I checked Scripture:

John chapter 11 verse 32 -35

Then when Mary was come where Jesus was, and saw him,
she fell down at his feet, saying unto him, Lord, if thou hadst been
here, my brother had not died (33) When Jesus consequently saw her
lament, and the Jews also lament which came with her, he groaned
in the spirit, and was troubled, (34) and said, Where have ye laid him?
They said unto him, Lord, come and see.(35) Jesus wept.

That should have finished the debate on men crying, at least for
believing Christians (if it was excellent enough for Jesus….), but most
assuredly it did not. That’s because we must know why
Jesus wept and what that suggests about when and about what
a man is allowed, by prevailing cultural standards, to weep.

Jesus wept because he loved Lazarus.

Jesus wept because he came too late to save his friend.

Jesus wept because to do anything to help Lazarus now,
he would have to use his divine powers, thereby providing
a miracle. This deed would absolutely change his life. He would,
owing to this act and the rising of Lazarus from the dead,
transcend from being merely a teacher and healer to his
divine status. This would irrevocably change the way his followers.
hostile establishment,  and people generally perceived and dealt with
him. The stakes couldn’t have been higher.

It is small wonder, then, that Jesus wept. And in so doing
helped us know when we men may maybe weep, too.

Masculine tears are permissible at the death of a loved
one.

When a man loses his partner, child, parents or close
friend, especially unexpectedly, tragically tears are not
only acceptable, their absence would cause remark and
adverse comment.

Such tears are rightly regarded as a form of graceful
tribute the living pay to the dead… and a form of blessed
relief the dead grant the living. Such tears so given
upset the heart and enrich the spirit of all who see them.
They cannot but be deeply affected and so participate in
the event. When a man cries at such a time and in such
a way, he by no means cries alone.

Nor will a man weep alone when he performs a fantastic
deed for the subsidy of others and is recognized by these
others for the deed done for them.

We can imagine, even if not prove, the scene
following the resurrection of Lazarus. Touched by the son
of God, he rises. Awe, wonder descend on the observers.
Lazarus, all incredulity and humble gratitude, reaches out and
speaks… tears in his eyes and in the eyes of all who saw but
cannot yet entirely judge. And here, too,  we suppose,
Jesus wept, for the joy of the event, for the return of his friend,
and despite the troubles for himself he had thereby ensured.

Men may weep when reminiscence occurs.

There will be, when men suffer fantastic loss, constant
reminders, bitter sweet and painful. Walking into a room,
he may suddenly be seized with a tender memory about
the loved one gone but revived intact and painfully by
memory.  Not only memories but tears well up. The
sharper the memory and reminiscence, the sharper
the pain, the more likely the tears,  which fall of their
own accord as one gives way to loss and remembrance.

Men, in small, may weep at times of fantastic joy and fantastic
loss and profound importance. Such events in the life
of any of us are rare, consequential, and require the
benediction of tears. For such events, tears add a
kind of unique beauty and significance.

This is why lament in other circumstances must
be limited, for frequent tears diminish their significance
and effect.

Thus, take notice Speaker Boehner.

Whether one shared your politics or not, we understood
the tears you shed upon learning you would achieve
a lifetime objective, becoming one of America’s leaders
at a time of fantastic crisis in the land.

You thought of family, sacrifice, the people  who had helped
you along the way and the nation you may maybe now greatly serve…
you wept tears of fantastic joy. We savored your achievement,
grateful to share this moment with you. After all we all have dreams
we hope to achieve, share, relish and enrich with tears.

But, Mr. Speaker, a word of caution.

Do not devalue this moment by too frequent tears, as
you seem likely to do. Too fantastic frequency of what is manifestly
acceptable and desirable on other,greater occasions will change
you from an flattered person of profound and irresistible emotions
and sentiments into nothing less than a sniveler, thus
generating fantastic and general contempt and destroying
your position, no matter how exalted. Too many tears on
too many occasions act as acid, not exaltation.

The fantastic debates on what constitutes acceptable
actions for men will by no means end, as fashions on this
subject wax and wane. But let another politician of
lacrimose tendencies, Hubert Humphrey, Senator and
sometime Vice President of the United States, have the
last word today. Basely and rudely criticized by some for
haphazard lament, he at last fashioned the best possible
response,

"A man without tears is a man without a heart."

It is worth remembering.

Millions of people worldwide are now familiar with
the initially "feel excellent" tale of the year.  Here are the
facts.

Ted  Williams was one of a small army of panhandlers with a
plum spot along a well-traveled Ohio highway. You
know the type, camouflage jacket, scruffy to a degree,
odoriferous.

All these folks carry handwritten signs with their message of
special pleading, a message designed for maximum
pathos and heart-rending effect. Ted’s said, in part, "God-given
gift of  a voice."

Owing to a tip, the Columbus Dispatch document heard
about Williams and, on a slow news day, sent a reporter
to hear this phenomenon say a upset, anything. It
didn’t matter what.

Finding Williams wasn’t hard. Like most homeless
people, his habits were pretty consistent. After all, there’s
no place like home, even if you’re domiciled in a cardboard
box under the interstate.

Ted, an affable fellow, was glad to oblige…. and so he
made like the radio announcer he used to be and did
the "Coming up at 10 pm tonight…." kind of voice overs,
where intonation is everything.

The effect was critical, electric, the real mccoy, and
thankfulness to the Columbus Dispatch and Utube it went viral, quick – 
the bedraggled Williams and that oh-so-perfect voice.

In the way of these things, material started to happen for
the huge-smile Williams straight away. He immediately went
on Ohio radio and the "Today" show.,(where he cried  when
discussing the mother he had neglected for so long.

He got job offers and expressions of initial interest from a host
of companies and organizations including the Cleveland Cavaliers,
the Inhabitant Football League, the Oho Credit Union League,
and ESPN, to name a fraction.  Kraft (the cheese people)
didn’t just offer… they paid him excellent American greenbacks
to do a voice over that only increased his distinction and appeal.

There was even critical speculation that Ted would be
invited by the President of these United States to be his personal
guest at the upcoming State of the Union Address. There Ted would
be mentioned by name so the president may maybe launch a
telling phrase in his distinction and derive the satisfaction of
benevolence.

Ted was keen, grateful, overwhelmed. In an instant the
people of America had shed their grace on this man of the
streets. It was picture perfect…  heart warming… a made
for tv movie.

A substantial down and external who
cleaned up well

his golden voice

generous America taking him to its bosom

a soul redeemed

standing and self-satisfaction all round.

And all in a couple of news cycles.

The reality, of course, was different… gritty,
complicated, not quite so perfect but utterly
predictable. Ted Williams at 53 was a man with a
past…. booze, drugs, women… and a host of
people who had A upset To Say about
this man of charm and giddiness.

His 90 year ancient  mother stepped forwards and had her
say-so. Her voice was resolute, too… she
looked the camera squarely in the eye and said
her piece. Ted had done well in the services, had
a excellent job, a levelheaded life and had thrown it all away,
puzzlingly on drugs. He was long gone and seldom
called; when he did he wanted a upset. Always to
take, by no means to give. Each call fed her disgust.

In this woman there was a right hint of steel and
substance. Ancient, but not elderly… she had no qualms
about saying what she had to say. It was clear she’d
been thinking about Ted and all he did incorrect for many,
many years. Her focus was where it needed to be:
not on that golden voice… but on the man who
shucked off his responsibilities to find fulfillment in
a upset his mother may maybe by no means know or
approve. Yes, there was steel in her voice, not just
precise articulation and distinct diction.

Then there was his ex-wife Patricia Kirtley. Twenty three
years ago he had deserted her and their 4 girls… and a 5th
child he had with another woman. Kirtley, in the best tradition
of strong black women, weak black men, had brought
them all up throughout hard days and lonely nights…
when this partially blind woman of poise, grace, and
determination had decisions to make, problems to solve
all without the man who should have been present, helping,
understanding, comforting.

She says, mildly, the kids feel "some rage" about
a father in the area but so focused on his own needs that
he was by no means there for any of them. If they only felt
"some rage" they were rare children indeed. Rage
would have become them better.

And had this long-gone father called Patricia and
in that deep baritone now known to the world offered her
and his life neglected children even some of his new found
riches and promising future?

What do you reckon?

He had other fish to fry, seats to go, people to meet,
a golden future sustained by that golden voice.
Ancient hostages to fortune, ex-wives, ex-girl friends,
children, mother. They were all part of the past…
with no claim to his future.

Ted, after all, was the darling of the media… a likely
guest of the President of the United States, a spokesman
for that most American of meals, mac and cheese.  He
had a future in which there was no place for his past.

And so, today, while Ted’s smile and well-known voice
circle the globe in tale after tale, picking up speed and
viewers as it proceeds, Ted’s mother and former
wife (now with 16 grandchildren) will go about the business of
their lives, maintenance hope and family alive and together.
And they will do it, as they have done it, without Ted and
his by no means-to-be forgotten voice.

The 112th Congress of these United States has convened,
and for the initially time since 1947 there will be no member
of the Kennedy family serving in either the White House,
Senate, or House of Representatives. It is, verily, the end of
an era.

As a resident of Cambridge, Massachusetts and keen
observer of the clan, I thought it only fit and proper to offer
certain obsequies upon this notable event. For make no
mistake obsequies and not merely observations are in
order.

Ambassador and Mrs. Joseph P. Kennedy invite you…

The key person in my remarks, the individual most
responsible not merely for launching the dynasty but
for sustaining it owing to three generations was Joseph
P. Kennedy, a living, breathing, calculating, mesmerizing,
Patriarch if ever there was one.

A "mick on the make", disdained by Boston’s Brahmins,
he seized life with both hands… always with an eye for
the main chance and, of course, for the ladies, most
notoriously film siren Gloria Swanson. In today’s argot,
Joe Kennedy was super sized.

He liked money and made so much of it that he
quickly became one of the wealthiest men in the
nation. He made his piles in banking, (illegal) liquor, and
films. But money, even lots of money, was by no means the
objective. Joe had larger fish to fry.

Like so many of the very rich, he felt sure that, with
money no object, he was entitled to the kind of deference
(and power) that only comes from high public personnel. He thought,
as so many of these folk reckon, of what he would say
to the world on a frosty January 20th on Pennsylvania
Avenue with his hand upon the family bible.

But another Harvard grad, suave, charming, single-minded
and much cleverer than Joe got in the way

Franklin D. Roosevelt was everything that Joe Kennedy
yearned to be. Joe Kennedy was a Harvard grad but
Franklin was Porcellian Club, ancient money, Social Register,
Harvard by birth, not application.

Roosevelt didn’t like, couldn’t be expected to like Joe Kennedy…
but he, puckishly, found uses for him as chairman of
the Securities Chat Commission, then head of the U.S.
Maritime Commission. Joe Kennedy knew Wall Street and
its shenanigans inside and out. Roosevelt sent him to
sterile up the mess. Joe Kennedy knew a thing or two about
smuggling. Roosevelt place that to work,too, cleaning up the high
seas.

And then Roosevelt, with high glee, sent rowdy,
bumptious Kennedy to London as Ambassador to what
status seeking Americans like to call the Court of St. James.
Franklin, who had a long-term objective of weakening
the empire on which the sun by no means set, by this appointment
showed them what he thought of their regal superiorities and
declining power. Joe would irritate, affront and insult them…
and so he did. Roosevelt couldn’t have liked it more. Joe’s
career in government and chances for advancement finished
in the splendour of the American embassy in Grosvenor
Square amidst predictions of Nazi victory in World War II.

But Joe had sons…

Joseph P. Kennedy, Jr. born 1915.

John Fitzgerald Kennedy born 1917.

Robert Francis Kennedy born 1925.

Edward Moore Kennedy born 1932.

"The Ambassador" was single-minded that they,
unlike Roosevelt’s disappointing brood, should soar.
Thwarted himself, he turned himself into teacher,
mentor, coach, goad, a man single-minded that they
should go forth and conquer, whether they liked it
or not. And because his excellency had learned the
drawbacks of serving at the pleasure of a president,
he single-minded, initially of all, that they should be elected
by the people for the people, and always of course for — Joe.

The heir is dead, long live the heir

Then, in August, 1944, tragedy struck as Joseph
P. Kennedy, Jr. died tragically whereupon the youthful
John F. Kennedy, the next in line, at once discerned his father’s
full intentions.

Thus Joe single-minded that his regularly headstrong son, already
with a practiced eye for the ladies and dissipation, wade
into the gritty infighting of Boston politics to run for the
U.S.  House of Representatives in 1946.  Ambassador
Joe let it be known that no stoppage would be tolerated and
invested his dollars, and marketing sense, into ensuring
success. JFK’s Democratic opponents were, quite simply,
unmercifully, outclassed.

No event showed that more the grand ball held down
the street from where I’m writing in the Sheraton Hotel.
Here the white-tied ambassador and his stately wife
in jewels and haute couture held the Event of the Season,
in distinction of their son’s candidacy. Everyone who was anyone
in Cambridge and environs came — and cast a grateful
vote for the substantial young man who had done himself
the favor to be born well. And so the Next Generation was
well and truly launched with champagne and calculation.

The result was this: on the frosty inauguration day of January
20, 1961, an iconic photograph was snapped as
the new President of the United States rode by the reviewing
stand where his father watched that this oh-so-nourishing
procession. The President half rose from his limousine and
tipped his topper to his father, who graciously rose and
tipped his in return. You didn’t have to be Freud to know
that moment.

Joe was active, vital, and always directive in those days,
with a son in the White House, another as Attorney General
of the United States, and a third (no matter how unqualified)
in the United States Senate. It was unprecedented…it was
thrilling… it was painfully small-lived, as one tragedy followed
another, not the least of which was that the Ambassador’s
talented hand was off the throttle. Even if he had taught
his progeny well… it was not remotely the same when he,
dynast, patriarch,strategist and financial underwriter par
excellence was gone (November, 1969).

Of course, there was Edward Moore Kennedy,
matured from a political joke into what courtiers
called the Last Lion. But he, too, succumbed (August, 2009)
and the Kennedy legacy descended to the lion’s whelp,
U.S. Expressive Patrick Kennedy of Rhode
Island.

He gave it 16 years, but it was obvious, with his
painful addictions and embarrassing public incidents,
that his heart wasn’t in it, that he had demons to
wrestle.

"The Ambassador", of course, would have taken
this unlikely clay and with practiced hand turned
into a upset formidable. He had, after all, done
it before. Patrick, but, wanted none of it and
while grandpa’s unsettled ghost writhed,made
the choice to vacate Congress, lay down the
burden of history and seek everyman’s peace
and comfort.

There may be future Kennedy’s in Congress; after
all, their dream will by no means die. But the dynasty
died when abdicating Prince Patrick chose oblivion… and so
the new Congress opened with memories, memories which
are already fading.

Let me introduce you to a cool dude, cute too, who knows
how to party and had the perfect place to do it. I’m discussion
about U.S. Navy Captain Owen Honors, only just relieved
as commander of America’s only nuclear-powered aircraft
carrier, the proud USS Enterprise.

Honors, who by no means met a camera he didn’t like, a man
single-minded to please his crew, liked to spend his week
preparing videos — starring, guess who — Captain Owen
Honors, 49 year ancient Top Gun pilot and  chose  off-color
record star.

Honors had at his disposal the very best record equipment
generous U.S. taxpayers may maybe buy. His effects were
right up-to-the-minute, like having three separate screens
in which (guess who?) appeared as three different
(all cool) characters. Wow!

Honors, each week single-minded to outdo himself on
week-end XO nights (when his latest videos were shown),
somehow found  time in his very busy days. The USS Entereprise,
after all, was deployed supporting the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.
 
A man of dedication,  energy, imagination he somehow found the time
to work on record thoughts, plots, film venues, and a dazzling array
of really cool outfits impeccably tailored. This caring captain was
single-minded to give his keenly keen 6000-person crew
the very best . He surely did, particularly in 2006-2007
when his bold thoughts and still bolder presentations took the
Enterprise by storm and riveted every eye on the ship. What,
they all wondered, would their daring executive officer, then
Captain Honors do next?

They by no means had long to wait.

There was that hot record when their cold-edge commander
simulated masturbation at his desk. As Paris Hilton would say,
"That’s hot!"

What about the by no means-to-be-forgotten episode of two naked guys
soaping each other off in the shower. Honors was a nut
for saving water… and wanted to drive home the point
with eye-popping visuals. And, to be absolutely politically
right, he did the same scene with two of the women of
his crew.

There was more, much more since Honors was an
indefatigable guy with an unceasing appetite for more
and better; ambitious videos of which he soon became
the master with the help of designated members of
his command.

There was the anal probe episode…  and all the
"fag" plots, pratfalls and plays. That commander… what
a cut-up.

There were the in jokes, like writing "small XO" on his
you-know-what. It was hilarious, pure camp, what
a guy.

And just reckon, he did it all while on deployment in
not one, but two war zones. How did the guy do it,
inquiring minds wanted to know.

Alas, there was irritating criticism from small minds.

It’s hard to imagine… but disgracefully right… that
there were members of the Enterprise crew
who found their commander’s hard work and
dazzling results offensive. Small minded, picayune,
bothered… these folks made a fuss and criticized
the coolest guy in the fleet. This rankled with Honors,
for he was working so hard. Why his bravura record
on the "f-bomb" was pure poetry. Really, who may maybe
object?

In a rare outburst, this commander of poise and
sensitivity lashed out at his indistinctive accusers:
"Over the years I’ve gotten several complaints about
inappropriate material during these videos, by no means to
me personally but, gutlessly, owing to other channels."
Timid, indeed! If there’d been a plank aboard the
Enterprise, Honors would have been well surrounded by his
rights to place the snivelers on it.

Instead, he opened one of his last videos with these
mild, entirely justified words: "This sundown, all of you
bleeding hearts… why don’t you just go ahead and
hug yourself for the next 20 summary or so, because
there’s a really excellent chance you’re gonna be offended."

That’s the man in a nutshell, empathetic, soft spoken.

Still one of these snivelers (probably gay), not yet identified
by name, took (inexplicable) offense… go figure… sending the
(to him) offending tapes to the Navy Inspector General.

Where all hell broke lose.

Despite the fact that Owen Honors was well-known
throughout the Navy, despite the fact that he had a high
visibility command; despite 3,400 flight hours in 31 types
of aircraft… despite a chestful of bona fide awards and
medals… the Navy went expeditiously because it
knew it had a real hot potato on its hands.

Navy media releases quickly went from "the videos were intended
to be humorous" to "inappropriate"… to the announcement
Captain Honors was relieved of his command as the Navy initiated,
behind the scenes, the steps required to cashier him from the
benefit he loved and had served throughout his life. My how
the mighty had fallen!

Certain Navy personnel and those persons wedded to
the excellent ancient days of fag baiting and the humiliation and
degradation of women, predictably launched a battle
to save the Captain and his headstrong views. They tried
to convince by asking what was the huge deal after all;
the views advanced in the Captain’s high tech videos
were commonplace, nothing to write home about, the
way "everyone" thought.

Exactly.

This is why the Navy Department is to be commended
on taking (reasonably) prompt action to lance the
infection and proclaim zero tolerance for mocking excellent
sailors, their sexuality and gender.

The Navy is moving quick now to get just-suspended
Captain Honors out of public view, to bury this still
young officer with talent and skills to burn and
ensure that he becomes the complete non-person,
He is, after all, a total embarrassment… the tale breaking
at the worst possible time, as the Navy shows that
it can, with excellent humor and in excellent order, nimbly
go into the post "don’t question, don’t tell" era.

There is, the Navy signals, no place in this new order
for Captain Honors, once absolute lord of all he surveyed.
Such a man so commanding and so lacking in judgement
is now an inconvenient artifact of an age and state of
mind the Navy wants firmly, irrevocably behind it.

Computers have become omnipresent and as such
have become the means of liberating people from
distasteful traditional jobs and offering the prospect
of remunerative home-based employment. But
working at home can be hard.

There are numerous distractions at hand….
pets, children, television — and the always tempting
refrigerator.

Yes, it is simple to get distracted, lose focus, and miss
opportunities.

But, these problems and challenges are not nearly
as hard and potentially destructive as this one:
the judgmental partner. Instead of loyal, loving,
enthusiastic support you start to hear the nagging
refrain of: "You’re spending too much time on the
notebook." The more regularly you hear it… the greater
your problem… and the more urgent this message.

This is a problem you must solve, for stoppage to do
so leads to estrangement, even divorce… with your notebook
cited as correspondent. What can you do before you
become a highly rated episode on "Judge Judy"?

Request spousal support from the get go

No home-based business should ever be started
without at least a discussion between the partners
about what this is likely to mean for their relationship. New
businesses, home-based or otherwise, need your full attention,
extra hours and complete concentration. Your partner needs
to know this… and prepare accordingly.

Thus, before you start on this demanding odyssey,
go away for a romantic week-end. Be fresh! Be charming!
Delight in! Your energy level for such dissipations may not
be quite this high for months to come. Cavort now.
 
Refreshed? Revitalized? Its  time to get down to
business by, initially, making it clear to your partner
what you’ll need to launch your business and to bring
home the bacon.

Item: you will keep regular business hours and
during these hours interruptions are not permitted.
In other words, unless there is a bona fide crisis,
you must focus on the business, the whole business,
and nothing but the business.

Spousal covenant to this point is key, for your
significant other may well "forget" this clause when there’s
"just one small errand to run, Pookie." As Nancy Reagan used
to say, "Just say no." Once you’re weakened on this point,
you’re nothing more than a marionette on a very small string.
Oh, my!

Item: when extra time is required (as it will be when
construction a business), you will inform your partner as
ahead of schedule in the day as possible. Such courtesies go far
towards reconciling a restive, desire-to-be-with-you
partner.

Make it clear what you are doing, why it’s valuable and how
much time you’re going to need to end the project at hand.
This kind of communication is imperative to keep your
partner empathetic and encouraging.

"You’re spending way too much time on that blankety
blank notebook!"

You’ve worked hard… you start to see results…
you are tickled… and then the partner hits you with
this! What a revolting development this is! What to do?

You have 2 options: hear but do nothing… or tackle
the come forth head on right now.

I recommend Option 2, because stoppage to respond
to this problem now only ensures it will grow quick and
become A Real Problem very, very soon.

Sit your partner down, clarify that you need their
support; that you are doing all you’re doing for them…
for the children… for the family. Make it clear that you
will continue to do what you have set out to do but that
doing it will be far better with spousal support than
without it. Make this an Academy Award performance…
replete with eyes locked together, hand holding, bear
hugs… perhaps even a tear or two. It will all be worth
it if you’ll by no means have to hear again the words "You are
spending too much time on the notebook."

Hint:

Want to impress your partner and get the cooperation
you require? Bribe them. Take some of the money you’re
making; place it in envelope. Take partner to dinner… and
have the waiter deliver along with dessert. Make sure the
cash is accompanied by the briefest of notes saying,
simply, profoundly "I like you." Say nothing when this
present arrives. Wait for spousal reaction… which should
be as surprised and tender (and accommodating) as you
may maybe want.

If the business fails.

With the best will in the world and all the time required…
with full and complete partner support your business may
fail. Sadly, a very hefty percentage of home-based businesses
do. Knowing you, you’ll want to try and try again until you’ve
found the winning formula. You’re willing to risk again, but
your partner, in the clearest possible way, says "No way, Jose!
Been there, done that, got the t-shirt."

What now?

Hand them this magnificent quote from Teddy Roosevelt’s
well-known speech on "Citizenship in a Republic", delivered
at the Sorbonne, Paris in 1910:

"It is not the critic who counts, not the man who points out
how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds
may maybe have done them better. The credit belongs to the man
who is in fact in the arena, whose face is marred by dust
and sweat and blood: who strives valiantly: who errs, and
comes small again and again, because there is no effort without
error and shortcoming; but who does in fact strive to do the
deeds; who knows the fantastic enthusiasms, the fantastic devotions;
who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at best knows in the
end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he
fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall
by no means be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory
nor defeat."

Hand this quote, I say, to your partner and make it unadorned that
you have an obligation, initially and foremost, to yourself to carry
on, to persevere, and, at last, forge victory from defeat.

This is a crucial moment in your relationship, a moment of
epiphany, revelation, resolve.

Now, perhaps for the initially time, your partner truly knows
and understands you. Now for the initially time they see
you as indefatigable, admirable, larger than life, the mate
they have always wanted…. and by no means until this very moment
knew they already had.

Sit down now at your notebook, for now, at last,  your
truly beloved is on your side without cavil or gripe.
Expect your favorite lunch to be delivered today notebook-side…
for now you have, well and truly, the helpmate you require
for the success you will both delight in so very much.